Secret
by Delu
Summary: It was a secret. A quiet, hidden treasure that the two of them alone knew of. Dumbledore didn't know, their friends didn't know, no one but the two of them knew. And that was just how they wanted to keep it, too. Slash HPDM


**Word Count:** 2651

**A/N:** I have no clue what possessed me to write this. Gah.

_Revised: July 29, 2009_

_-- Edit Made: _revised parts of the story line, changed when the actual love-making occured plus some grammar and sentence structure.

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**Secret**

It was a secret.

A quiet, hidden treasure that the two of them alone knew of. Dumbledore didn't know, their friends didn't know, no one but the two of them knew. And that was just how they wanted to keep it, too.

They liked to know that they could trust each other so intimately that they didn't have to worry if someone was going to find out or not from one of them. It was one thing for it to be an accident, for someone to walk in on them, but an entirely different thing for it to be spouted for all the world to know.

After all, then it wouldn't be a secret. Then they couldn't have that special treasure for just to two of them to keep, to hold so close to their hearts that it hurt. And sometimes, when they really thought about it, it scared them. It scared them how deeply they cared for each other - was it even possible to care so much for another human being?

But for them, it was more than possible. For them, their love was more way of life. It was like air to their lungs; they couldn't live without it. And more importantly, they didn't _want_ to live without it. They loved each other too much to even bear the thought of living without each other or their special little secret, their special little love.

So, a secret they would keep it; for now and forever. Theirs for always.

---

He wouldn't accept it. He just wouldn't. It couldn't be happening. It just _couldn't_. No. No.

_No._

Harry could _not_ die. He couldn't! Draco wouldn't let him; he'd drag him back into the world of the living with his bare hands if he had to. Harry was not going to leave him! He wasn't! He wouldn't, he couldn't just leave him all alone in the world. He loved him too much for that to happen.

No. Harry wasn't going to die. No. Draco refused to believe it. No. He was still breathing, and the nurses were doing all they could. They'd bring him back. They would. They _had to_ dammit!

Draco's heart clenched tightly in his chest as he watched the Medi-witches and wizards scrambling about trying to save his black haired beauty. His Harry. His. His. Always his. Forever. They'd promised each other they'd always be together; they did.

And Harry never breaks a promise. He was too good for that. Too innocent, too pure to do anything to wretched as to leave his love behind. He wouldn't break that promise to Draco.

"Harry, please," the blond begged to the thin air around him. He was in the waiting room now, torn and bloody, his robes a mess. He wouldn't let the doctors come near him, wouldn't let them touch him until they told him Harry was okay. Because by god if Harry left, so would he. He wouldn't live without him. Couldn't. Refused.

His breathing was fast and frantic as he paced around the chair littered room. His hands in his hair, ruffling it, nervous habit coming into play. What was taking so long? Surely he couldn't be too damaged?

_Don't think like that. Harry couldn't never be damaged. He's too good for that. Too whole. Too pure._ Too overwhelmingly beautiful to ever be marred.

The blond sighed as he closed his eyelids tightly over his gray eyes. He slid down the wall, bunching his hands into fists in his hair. A rattling bang echoed in the silent room. He couldn't get the images out of his head. They wouldn't leave him alone.

Harry was on the floor, bleeding, pale, gashed. Broken. Damaged. He looked like Death warmed over. Draco could just see his once joyful face laughing brightly and smiling like he hadn't a care in the world. He tried to replace the bloodied image of his love with this ever lasting pure one, but it didn't work. Black always overpowered white, it seemed.

The door to his right rattled slightly as another injured person was rolled quickly by. Draco paid it no mind; he was too busy thinking of what had happened. What _should not_ have happened, but did anyway.

He should have been paying better attention, should have been keeping a closer eye on Harry, but there were just so many Death Eaters. And they were all coming from different angles. He couldn't keep up with them all! How was he to know that Voldemort would show up just then? How was he to know that Harry would be attacked without aid, just then?

In his mind, it didn't matter that he had no clue how he was to have know, just that he should have. But he didn't. It was his fault. All his fault. It was his fault Harry was hurt, that Harry was suffering. He should have been better, quicker, anything!

He should be on that gurney, on that operating table. Not Harry. He should be the one that was hit by too many _reducto_s, not Harry. It should have been him in their dieing, not Harry. Never Harry.

He was just too innocent and pure and _whole_ for that.

But somehow Draco knew that after today, Harry'd never be whole again. Never be innocent again. Never be pure again. Never be _his _Harry again. But he'd love him anyway. He always had. He always would. Because he loved Harry too much to give up their treasure, their secret.

He'd keep Harry's heart until the day he die.

---

It had been two years. Two long, painful years.

The war, it was over after that final battle. Hogwarts had been in ruins from it, but now it was being rebuilt and protected by even more wards than ever before. Diagon Alley had been in shambles but was now thriving with people just trying to get back to normal. Just trying to live day by day. Barely getting by in some cases.

Hogsmeade had been burned to the ground. The Three Broomsticks hadn't made it; neither had the Hog's Head or Zonko's. It had all been gone. But just like everything else, it was being rebuilt. Remade. Better than before, some hoped. Most knew that was a lie. But they could hope right?

Two long years since that day; it felt like longer. Longer than just seven hundred twelve days. More than a hundred four weeks. More tiring than just two birthdays.

Maybe it was just Draco; maybe it was just Draco's heart. But to him, it seemed like an eternity.

Harry was in a coma. Had been for two years. Maybe that was what was causing such a heavy heart? Of course it was. His love hadn't awoken since that snake faced bastard had been destroyed once and for all, hadn't made a sound. On good days he did wiggle his toes though, and the doctors said that was a sign of improvement.

But that was it. No change in heart rate, no blood pressure raising or lowering, nothing. Brain activity was the same as a sleeping person's would be. Was that what Harry was doing? Sleeping for two years? Draco mused to himself that he must have been awfully tired.

The sad part was, it was probably true. The doctors first thought his coma might have something to do with magical and physical exhaustion, but the longest coma case of magical exhaustion was just over five months, nothing near the two years that Harry had been out. So, they tallied it all up to a freak coincidence of nature. He just wanted to sleep, that's what they told Draco.

Sleep. Right. Harry was always an insomniac; and he was hyperactive or something most of the time. Had to be doing something with his hands, making something, writing something, it didn't matter. He just had to do something. Draco doubted that he'd ever slept a full night in his life.

So, when the blond went in to St. Mungo's Long Term Ward as he did every day just to sit their and watch his love, his treasure, his secret, he nearly fainted dead away from seeing the black haired man sitting up in bed, looking for all the world like he'd just woken up from a long nap.

"Draco?" His voice was raspy and low from unuse. He seemed as surprised by his voice as the blond did; they'd both had only memories of a strong deep voice calling out the blond's name with such love. It seemed that two years really was a long while.

"Harry, oh god, Harry," Draco said, thinking he might be in a dream. Maybe he'd died? Whatever had happened, Draco did not look a gift horse in the mouth. He rushed over to the bedside and wrapped his arms so tightly around the smaller man that he feared he might've crushed him.

He didn't worry about that though, because he was being consumed by his lover's arms just as tightly about his waist. It had been too long since they held each other like this; so intimate, so loved. They never wanted to let go.

---

Draco leaned his forehead against the scarred one of Harry's. He looked into those beautiful emerald eyes and saw they shined as bright as they always had, not changing even after two long years. But that time of lonliness and depression was passed by three weeks.

After the sable haired youth's miraculous reawakening, the Mediwizards had checked, rechecked, and _triple_ checked Harry's stability. The only thing wrong with his body was a weakening of the muscles from not using them for so long. Two days later he was allowed to go home with strict orders not to over exert himself.

He'd moved in with Draco, after denying the request of roommate to an engaged Ron and Hermione. A very _shocked_ and engaged Ron and Hermione, that is: they'd been let in on the secret. They'd reacted as the reunited couple had expected, with confusion and denial. It took a few days for the words to sink in, but they'd accepted the relationship.

As if they had a choice.

So, it had been three weeks. Three weeks of basking in love, comfort, and safety with the war gone. Harry went to St. Mungo's everyday for a check-up on his muscles and yesterday they had finally said he was allowed _some_ physical activity. Which was exactly what the couple was doing.

Draco leaned down and captured his lover's lips in a passionate kiss; desperate to feel that the other was there, alive, _awake._ He'd waited too long for this, they both had. And they both needed it so much.

He worked one hand in those inky tresses, desperate to feel as much of Harry as he could; the other hand was grabbing a hold of a too thin waist, bringing them closer together. Harry melted into him, melding their bodies together. A smaller hand grabbed his, running it to the underside of his shirt, letting the blond's hand roamed where it pleased.

His back, his spine, his sides, his ass. It felt so good to touch him again, feel him right there with him and not have to hold back. Draco had watching that face for two years, but he'd been afraid to touch him, afraid to feel that cold skin of Death.

"Draco, please, I need - " Harry pleaded of him, his neck craned back to look up into the silver eyes he adored.

He pulled their mouths together for another searing kiss, running his tongue along Harry's bottom lip; he was eagerly granted entrance. They both groaned at the feel of the slick velvet of their tongues running against each other, dancing, battling for dominance. They ground their hips together, walking backwards towards the bed.

Harry's knees bumped it and he toppled backwards, dragging Draco down on top of him. They gasped as their cocks aligned and rubbed each other through coarse fabric. The all too familiar position came back to them as Draco moved on top and Harry squirmed underneath. Harry hooked a leg around the blond's waist and ground them together.

"I need to feel you in me, please; oh, god, please," he threw his head back wantonly and moaned as Draco slid his hands into his pants and under the boxers the dark haired man wore and slid them off in one smooth motion. The blond wasted no time in pulling of the other's white shirt as well as his own robes.

He looked down at the exposed body before him. It was so familiar, yet different at the same time. New scars, paler, skinnier, but still his Harry underneath it all. The thin chest rose and fell as Harry watched Draco study him. The blond leaned down to the chest and blew hot air onto small nipples, peaking them up. He sucked on one, biting, licking, and laving it before he turned to the other and did the same fervent strokes.

He trailed up to the raising jugular and bit and sucked on the neck of his lover. He groaned as Harry thrust up into his stomach impatiently. He missed this so much. Missed lying like this, teasing, tasting, exploring. Missed the love and care between them. All of it.

He raised his eyes to look at the glazed emerald orbs. He knew what Harry wanted; he wanted it too. Badly; so, so badly. Making a decision, he spit on his palm and squatted at the end of the bed. Grasping his straining erection, he spread the self made lube; hold not tight enough to make him come, but enough to make Harry moan and spread his legs wider as Draco knelt down between them.

"Relax, Harry. Just relax." With that, he slowly entered his love like he had so many times before.

Harry hissed at the intrusion, but didn't back away, instead, he pushed down readily, making Draco drive deeper faster. It didn't take long for the blond to be fully sheathed and for the two to be panting with need. Harry rocked his hips as a signal to go and Draco slowly pulled back out and slammed back in, causing Harry to whimper slightly in pleasure. He did it again and again until he hit that sweet spot deep inside that made Harry gasp, hiss, and moan in need all at the same time.

"Oh, Draco, harder, harder."

Draco started to thrust deeper, faster until he could barely stand it anymore. He reached between their bodies and grasped Harry's straining erection and tugged and pulled on it.

"Nnn, Draco, I'm gonna --" was all he got out before string after string of sticky come made it's way onto their stomachs and Draco was releasing deep inside of Harry, his own orgasm hitting as muscles clenched around him.

They lay there panting for a while, recovering from their activity, curled around each other in bliss. Harry lazily trailed a finger over Draco's chest. He paused thoughtfully as he looked up at his love, his secret.

"What is it, love?" Draco asked curiously as he looked at Harry.

"Do you still have that treasure chest?" He asked, pensive, eyes downcast. Draco smiled softly and lifted Harry's chin.

"Of course I do, love. It's always with me, where ever I go."

"Even for these last two years?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Harry, it has been with me since we shared our secret; and it will be with me until the day that I leave this world. I promise you." He kissed Harry's forehead gently. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Draco," Harry muttered as he lay his head down on the blond's chest and started trailing his finger again.

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